


if it's not too much to ask, would you come?

by panaderia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comfort, M/M, coming home (literally and figuratively lol), love languages 101: a tutorial by miya osamu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panaderia/pseuds/panaderia
Summary: Akaashi turns to his bedside to shoot one Miya Osamu a text, chasing to pour the certainty from the tips of his thumbs directly to the glaring white of his phone screen before it even turns into a bleak pool of hesitation.Do you have time tonight?3:09 AM
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 18
Kudos: 101
Collections: Rice Quartet Week 2021





	if it's not too much to ask, would you come?

Akaashi curls into himself, pulling his knees closer to his torso as if wanting to physically crumple the feeling of unease that is beginning to rise to his throat. 

It is always the ugly churning in his chest and the rapid mulling of his brain over thousands and thousands of things that keeps him up at night. He is used to nursing this kind of feeling alone. It usually works, he has mastered it through the years, but right now just seemed all _too_ much—too thick to be harbored inside the hollow of a single torso; too heavy of a load it almost feels like a boulder that would probably make his sturdy mattress dip if it is only tangible. 

He sighs, eyes shut tightly, attempting to exhale the emotion out of his system. It didn’t work, and neither were the aimless round trips he took to his kitchen, circling around the living area and back to his bedroom twenty minutes ago and it’s already 3 in the morning of a workday that just so happened to be a month-end week. _Deadlines_ , his brain too quick to supply, and he’s already regretting the fact that he is even capable of thinking. He really kind of wants to be a gadget with a dead battery right now. 

He pulls out a list (an imaginary one, just inside his head) of all his friends and trusted people, skimming through the entirety of it. Filtering it down to a couple of people—three or four or five, maybe—he weighs the pros and cons of calling one of them later at night. _Just to talk this out, I just really need to have somebody to listen._ All considerations zeroed in on one person though—someone who has an easy yet very steady presence, someone whom he has never felt troubles being himself with. 

Akaashi turns to his bedside to shoot one Miya Osamu a text, chasing to pour the certainty from the tips of his thumbs directly to the glaring white of his phone screen before it even turns into a bleak pool of hesitation. 

Do you have time tonight? _3:09 AM_

Running on roughly two hours of sleep, Akaashi drags himself through his routine during workday mornings. Minutes before stepping out of his rented flat, he opens his phone to a reply. 

Of course. _6:34 AM_

Take care at work today :) _6:34 AM_

Pocketing his phone, he wills himself to get through this day, muted anticipation for a phone call tucked in one corner of his mind for him to pick up later. 

  
  


⋄⋄⋄

  
  


The entire day was honestly a blur to Akaashi. He seems to be faring just fine despite it anyway, considering that nobody is calling his attention or ringing his telephone local number about possible blunders he could be making due to being _very_ out of it today. 

The day is dwindling to an end. Udai Tenma leaves thirty minutes ahead of him, slipping a single pack of cookie on his work desk. “Go home soon,” he says. Before Akaashi can even react to the pat on his arm, his colleague already turned his back to him to exit their office. 

Akaashi stares, _stares_ intently at the cheap cookie beside his hand. Whether it’s the dark bags under his eyes or today’s unusually unruly hair that gave his not-my-best-day away, he chooses not to dwell in it. For some reason, people silently noticing _and_ doing the littlest of things gets his right eye a little teary. 

Kindness is nice. 

Going home, he takes his descent from their office building and walks his usual way to the station. Rounding to this one corner, his eyes caught a glimpse of a black pickup he’s been quite familiar with for these past months. He squints through his glasses as he walks towards it, and sure enough, it’s Osamu who’s leaning on the side of his truck. 

“Miya-san?” A gasp was absent, but the surprise was unmistakably there. 

The man in question startles a bit as he lifts his head from his rapt focus on his smartphone, his gaze softening with the sight of the person he’s been waiting for. “Hey,” he starts, smiling a gentle one. “Glad you caught me, I almost missed you,” he supplied, chuckling.

“Yeah, I recognized the pickup meters away.” Akaashi is betting that it’s the cookie that cleared his head enough to notice the truck. “What brings you here?”

“My free time tonight.” Another gentle smile. The last Tuesday of July this year sure feels warm. “Let’s give you a ride home?”

  
  


⋄⋄⋄

  
  


The drive to Akaashi’s flat was silent, save for the usual noises of Tokyo traffic. 

Silence with Osamu is one of the things he finds comfort in whenever the two of them spend time together, for it’s never too thick in the air nor too heavy to bear and worry about. It is the complete opposite of everything he felt this dawn, he recalls. 

He allows himself to be consumed with thinking once again. Thoughts that were suspended during work hours start to make their way back into the center platform inside his head, taking over and unceremoniously bouncing like lights from one corner to another—these lights are totally horrid-looking in comparison to the street lights he sees from the truck’s shotgun seat, in beautiful bokeh effect with the help of the raindrops on the car window and windshield. 

When he notices that they are just a couple blocks away from his place he snaps out of his thoughts, realizing that he has never said a word to his companion yet since they got in the car. 

“I was just expecting a phone call tonight.” He fiddles with his fingers after hearing how lame of a conversation starter that was. 

“Really?” He feels Osamu regarding him with a swift tilt of his head to the right. “Well you had low expectations about me and it’s my pleasure to have exceeded it,” he says, tone light and easygoing. Akaashi can’t help but to snort at that, and seeing Osamu try to get a glimpse of his grin from the driver’s seat just makes his smile go wider. 

Dropping the topic, Akaashi tries again and suggests, “Have you eaten? If you’re fine with takeouts we can get some from the one close to my building.”

“Actually,” the pickup slows down as it reaches Akaashi’s place. “I prepared dinner for us two. Would you mind some homemades?”

Akaashi smiles his second smile for today. “You’re beating my expectations to a pulp, I see.”

Osamu laughs, unbuckles his seat belt and gets down the truck. 

  
  


⋄⋄⋄

  
  


Dinner was _delightful_ , as delightful as homemade foods by Osamu packed in bento boxes could be, and there is no question in that. Akaashi _loved_ everything Osamu has prepared for him so far. The onigiris are still at the unbeatable top spot, though. 

Akaashi settles on his single couch in the living area with his visitor taking the other, more spacious couch beside him. He is pleasantly full, feeling warm both in his stomach and in the heart. 

“Thank you for the food, it was great as usual.”

Osamu responds with a smile, reaching to the coffee table to his right to turn on a lamp shade. “Feeling better now?”

Akaashi groans at that. “Ah, yes, so much better. Good food is really the best thing in the world.”

“Indeed it is,” Osamu chuckles. “Is that all I can do for Akaashi-san today?” 

Akaashi scoffs at him, lightly pushing Osamu’s arm off his armrest. “You didn’t have to drive all the way here, you know... I was honestly just thinking of going for a phone call tonight.” Osamu tips his chin towards Akaashi’s direction, anticipating his next words. “Sorry if my text earlier sounded urgent.”

“You know I didn’t mind.” Osamu reaches for the hand that touched him just seconds ago, and holds onto it. “What’s up, ketchup? Rough week?”

“I guess so.” Akaashi then stares at their hands. “But you know, thinking about it now, I can’t exactly recall the feeling any longer. Bit dumb.”

“Good food makes you forget? Taking note of that.” He plays with Akaashi’s fingers next—long, pretty ones, even prettier under the fancy warm lighting from the lamp shade. “But I don’t think it’s dumb if it kept you up until 3 o’clock in the morning,” he reassures. “Something happened?”

“Yeah.”

“At work?”

“Not only...”

“Come ‘ere,” Osamu tugs at the hand he’s playing with, and nods once to beckon Akaashi to come closer. The other complies, transferring couches to sit beside Osamu as the latter pulls him closer against his side with a warm hand on Akaashi’s shoulder. He allows Akaashi to get comfortable, waits until a cheek is pressed against the juncture of his shoulder and chest. Hands finding each other, the older interlaces their fingers once again. 

Not to go _gooey_ or anything, but at that moment Akaashi could almost physically _feel_ the worries fizzle out of his body like how his favorite unhealthy soda loses its fizz as it meets the surface and takes the shape of a clear glass. He allows his cheek to melt against a toned chest, a firm yet careful arm rounding his shoulders like an anchor. 

Sound. Settled in. _Home._

A minute or two of even breathing and reciprocated circles on knuckles passed before Akaashi spoke. 

“I heard that my parents got into a fight with some of our relatives. _Again_. It’s been an existing family issue for years but I guess I’m more bothered by the fact that the feud just seems to be getting worse after each clash.” The nice warmth in his belly dissipates as the feeling of his worries come back to him, the dreadful pit in his stomach hollowing again. “My parents aren’t getting any younger anymore, so as much as possible I want to keep them away from emotional strain,” he sighs, one that sounds defeated. “They aren’t even telling me about it either.”

“You know it’s because they don’t want to make you worry too much about them.”

“And that’s what’s frustrating, I cannot _not_ worry, you know,” and with a smaller voice Akaashi says, “it’s only the three of us. Who else would worry about them?”

He chuckles not long after saying that. “It sucks to be an only child in one too many ways,” he admits as he squeezes Osamu’s hand. “I bet it’s better with your family?”

Osamu hums, contemplating. “Our family extends more on my father’s side. Fairly big in size, and we live just blocks away from one another. They are around just as much as we are with them, but we usually tend to our knitting. Proved to be beneficial most of the time.” Getting a bit lost in his thoughts, Osamu keeps in mind to introduce Akaashi to his favorite cousin’s daughter someday. They have the same beautiful honest eyes. “How about work?” He inquires. 

“Oh, _swamped_. Deadlines. Lots of month-end stuff.” Akaashi presses his forehead against Osamu’s chest, breathing in as he squeezes his eyes shut, then going back to his position earlier, a cheek against chest as he exhales so hard. So hard that the air he breathed out reached their entwined hands over Osamu’s lap, eliciting a short laugh over Akaashi’s office misery from the two of them. 

“Now, now, that’ll get better,” he coos as he ruffles Akaashi’s hair with the hand that’s previously on the younger’s shoulder. Combing the soft locks with his fingers, he asks, “But do you have some time to spare? I’d love to give you a trip to and fro your parent’s house if you’d like.”

Akaashi’s answer is immediate. “I don’t think I have, and maybe that’s what’s making me feel more unsettled. I know I wouldn’t be able to visit them any sooner.”

Osamu is still combing Akaashi’s hair, as several beats of comfortable silence pass. Moments after, Osamu mutters, “Give them a call.”

“Yep, I’d do that.” 

Akaashi, through Osamu at that moment, reaches an apprehension. There are certain troubles that do not need fixing—instead it appreciates a listener, some company, and tenderness without reservations. 

So tenderness he matches. 

“It all feels better now. Thank you for coming.”

Osamu turns his head to his side, gently rubbing the tip of his nose against Akaashi’s hair as he breathes in. 

_For you._

_For Keiji_ will be Osamu’s immutable, devoted answer. Night and day.

**Author's Note:**

> a fruit of a sudden urge to externalize and i could only hope it’s up to scratch at least lol. still and all, thank you for reading!
> 
> edit: 2021/01/07  
> i transferred this work to this ao3 account but i’m leaving my old ao3 account’s replies to comments made before this date as they are. just thought i should mention that lol


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